


Happy Endings

by Resoan



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4552866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resoan/pseuds/Resoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soris has moved to Highever after the Blight, yearning to make a fresh start in a place that doesn't hold so many sad memories for him. Aerys Lenacy, formerly of the Tevinter Imperium, has been searching for someone for nearly a decade, and now that her search has ended, she finds no reason to do much of anything anymore.</p><p>The pair stumble into the other's life, and maybe, just maybe, they'll be able to find a happy ending they've both been seeking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Endings

**Author's Note:**

> To make a long story short, my OC’s name is Aerys (pronounced like Iris) Lenacy, formerly of the Tevinter Imperium. Her family is well-respected, and she actually assumed her family’s seat in the Magisterium.
> 
> She fell in love with one of her family’s slaves, Vehrion. It was not a relationship that could be reciprocated for obvious reasons, but she did tell him of her feelings (and no - she never expected anything of him, and she never abused her position in the matter).
> 
> Aerys freed Vehrion after she discovered her parents’ plot to sacrifice him in a blood magic ritual, and she herself fled shortly thereafter. She looked for him for several years, and only just found him - married happily, and with children.

_Papa_.

Vehrion had looked past Aerys to the little boy who stepped into the doorway, his dark hair the same, dark shade as Vehrion’s – and that face… There was no denying the relationship. All her years of searching, of nursing the foolish and vain hope, and it had all come crashing down in half a second.

 _It’s all right, Luka. She’s a friend._  Even with Vehrion’s words, the boy was skittish as he crossed the room, giving Aerys an incredibly wide berth. Before she could give Vehrion time to react, though, she was gone. She doubted very much she would be missed, or even considered ever again.

The word seemed to resound in Aerys’ ears even now, the realization curling her stomach inward until she thought she may well collapse to the ground. It had to be true – how could it  _not_? She had never expected Vehrion to wait for her to find him; setting him free had never been about her affection for him, and once the heaviness and sorrow passed, she would be pleased that he’d found a family, a  _life_  outside of being a slave in Tevinter.

Her wound was still fresh, however. Aerys currently sat at a small corner table inside a nameless inn, the smell of brine and seawater heavy on the wind of the Fereldan port – a city whose name she’d already forgotten in her drunken stupor. The barkeep at first had not wanted to serve her – had eyed her strange dress and accent – but the clink of gold upon the counter had been an easy coercion, and he gruffly produced a tankard and refilled it whenever Aerys had strength enough to lift her head.

It didn’t seem to matter what she did anymore. Her purpose for living was gone, and returning to the Imperium was admittedly not an option, though Aerys had no desire to return anyway. The southern countries treated their mages little better than the magisters their slaves, but at least there was an argument of keeping people safe. Mercifully, the templars had not yet discovered her, but even then, Aerys had to wonder if, or perhaps when, that would change.

She wrung her fingers as she might when conjuring flame, but even so far in her cups she knew better.

It was several hours later that she staggered out of the inn and into the muddy lane, a light drizzling rain dampening her dark hair until it pressed uncomfortably against the back of her neck. The sky was grey, covered over with dark clouds which promised rain in the near future, but Aerys couldn’t bring herself to move more swiftly; in fact, her steps came to an abrupt pause as she slid forward and fell into the mud with a loud, squelching sound.

Vertigo followed the motion, an unpleasant roiling sensation that threatened to bring back the swill she’d drunk in the tavern, but she kept it down just barely.

_What’s the point?_

The rain began to fall harder as she lay there, drenching through her fancy, fur-lined tunic, but even as cold began to settle in her bones, she wondered if she might die here. It was not so scary a prospect, really. No one would miss her. A quiet sob almost startled her when it shuddered its way up to her lips, but even then, she bit down the rest of them – she’d already cried quite enough in the past few days, and refused to do so again.

* * *

“Augh! Just my luck,” Soris grumbled, pulling the hood of his cloak past his ears and over his head just as the rain began to fall. Highever was a nice enough city, but it wasn’t Denerim, and Soris still wasn’t entirely familiar with all the back alleys and passageways. Its citizens seemed more tolerable, though, so that was a plus, he supposed.

Shianni had not been pleased when he announced he’d be moving after everything that had happened during the Blight, but after losing his cousin, Viranas, to the Grey Wardens, many of his friends to the Arl’s raids and the plague, and  _then_ , to top it all off, his own  _wife_  to  _slavers_ … Well, Soris was beginning only to see the despair he’d come to associate with the place.

Valora had been kind and gentle if not a pretty face, and he’d felt genuine affection for her even if he’d never confess to loving her the way a husband ought to love his wife. If he were foolhardy –  _or more like Cousin_ , Soris added with a sly twist of his lips – he may have gone after the slavers, but such was likely only to end with himself in chains and in the employ of a Tevinter magister with a taste for blood magic and elf flesh.

The thought made him shudder as he headed for the end of the alley, the raindrops beginning to fall harder as he increased his pace; the last thing he needed was to ruin his only cloak and have to save another few months for another. The seamstress in the alienage was a kindly older woman, a widow for a few years now, and she had to charge just a bit more than she preferred just to keep herself comfortable in her home – not that Soris could blame her, of course. The Blight had left many widows and orphans in its wake, and he sincerely doubted half so many had ended as well as she had.

It was as he rounded the corner and headed for the alienage that he saw…well, he couldn’t be completely sure  _what_  he saw. At first, it appeared to be some sort of lump or mass of linens – perhaps mildewed and tossed to the streets for beggars to keep warm during the quickly-incoming winter. As he drew closer, however, he noticed that the pile was shivering, an incoherent, mumbling mess of muffled words.

His eyebrows furrowed as he paused, and perhaps against his better judgment, Soris knelt down, eyes probing and curious as he extended a hand warily. “Hello…?”

Soris received no reply, though he did allow himself to notice a few details; it was a human who lay beneath the cloak, a woman, and if she’d had any purse or coins on her, they were long stolen by urchins or bandits. _I wonder how long she’s been here_ , Soris wondered idly, though he could feel his stomach sink just a bit lower in his belly. He couldn’t very well leave her here, could he? Human or not, who knew what sort of people would come across her, and after everything Soris had endured…well, leaving her to a fate like that of Valora or Shianni had his skin crawling and a warm anger bubbling just below his skin.

The human was tall, taller than Soris himself, but she was much lighter than her frame might have suggested; judging from the smell of her breath as her head lolled onto Soris’ shoulder, he wouldn’t be surprised if alcohol had been her only source of sustenance for a while now.

It was slow trudging back to his home, especially now that the rain was coming down steadily and the sun was well below the horizon, but he did eventually make it – soaked to the bone and with a shivering  _shem_ clinging to him as though she were afraid for her life.

 


End file.
